


Summer Writing Series Challenge -- Anne U's Responses

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-09
Updated: 2005-10-08
Packaged: 2018-10-26 11:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: REPOST: These are my response to the Portkey Summer Writing Series Challenge, http://www.livejournal.com/community/pk_h_hr_swsc/. All stories will be rated PG-13 or less. Each chapter is my response to a specific challenge. I hope you enjoy these.





	1. Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Written for the Summer Writing Series Challenge, <http://www.livejournal.com/community/pk_h_hr_swsc/>

__

Keyword: beach. Inspired by this drawing, <http://www.boomspeed.com/muddgutts/BeachHHr.jpg>_, by my good friend Muddgutts. Approximately 590 words and yes, this is the whole story._

The sun was hot on the young man’s skin. He perched on his elbow, leaning over toward the young woman in the pinkish bikini, wondering how the two of them had gotten to the point of lying on this blanket, on this beach in the Yucatan.

His mind flooded with memories of everything that had led them here. How they spent five years being best friends, sharing classes, studying together, and having adventures most kids their age couldn’t dream of. Then followed two years of him focusing on preparing to meet his fate – a fate that had been prophesied before he was born, a fate that only he could fulfill, the same fate that made him try to push her and everyone else away from him to keep them safe from harm. 

Only she wouldn’t be pushed, wouldn’t be kept from harm, wanted to share the bad as well as the good with him. "I’m already a target," she told him more than once. "I’ve been a target since you saved me from the troll. Don’t try to keep me away, because I’ll never leave you." Every time she told him this, she buried her face in his jumper and hugged him harder than seemed possible for such a slip of a girl. 

When push finally came to shove, though, she let him go out alone to do what he had to do, but not before making him a promise – that when ( _not_ if) he came back, and if (but only if) he wanted, she hoped she could be more than just his best friend. And then Hermione did something she’d never done before and kissed him on the lips. No stars exploded behind his eyes; no rockets rang out in the night sky. But the softness of her lips wrapped his heart in a blanket of peace and calm. That was when Harry Potter finally understood about "the power he knows not," the power that Harry possessed in abundance but which Voldemort had never known and would never know…the power that eventually saved Harry’s life while enabling him to defeat Voldemort forever….

Six months later, Harry and Hermione lay on this beach, soaking up the sun as if they’d never had care in the world. Leaning up on her elbows, Hermione looked out toward the ocean. "It’s so beautiful here, isn’t it?" she sighed. "After everything you’ve gone through, I’m glad we were able to get away from England and come here."

Harry leaned closer to her, his left hand resting lightly on her abdomen, and admired the view. "The ocean’s very pretty, but I’d much rather look at you." 

"Oh honestly, Harry…that’s…very sweet of you," she muttered, her face almost as pink as the spaghetti straps on her bikini top. She looked deeply into his eyes, frowning slightly. "You’ve been very quiet this afternoon. What have you been thinking of?"

Closing the distance between them, Harry leaned toward Hermione and captured her lips in a kiss as soft and sweet as the one he’d just remembered. "Just thinking about all the years I’ve known you," he whispered, trailing kisses down the side of her neck toward her collarbone, "and wishing it hadn’t taken me seven whole years to figure things out."

Hermione leaned back a bit, exposing more of her neck to him. "Always happy to help. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Mmmmmmm," he sighed, nuzzling her ear as he laid her back on the blanket. "I’m not sure, but I bet I’ll think of something."

~~Finito~~


	2. Drabbles

A Glorious Feeling

By Anne U

958 words, rated PG

Written for the Portkey Summer Writing Series Challenge. The challenge was to write a ficlet of no more than 1,000 words, inspired by a musical, topic: love/romance. The challenge appears here:

<http://www.livejournal.com/community/pk_h_hr_swsc/8383.html>

This is the completed ficlet.

^*^*^*^

It started out like any other Thursday night. Harry Potter and his best friend, Hermione Granger, met their other best friend, Ron Weasley, for drinks and dinner. They’d done this every Thursday, come rain or shine or gloom of winter, for the three years since they’d finished Hogwarts. It was their way of celebrating their friendship, which had endured over ten long and often difficult years, as well as thumbing their noses at those Death Eaters who still lingered after Voldemort’s defeat.

Dinner involved large amounts of lasagna and mostaccioli, followed by cannoli and tiramisu (Ron had some of both), at an Italian restaurant on Charing Cross Road in Muggle London. After dinner, the three friends took a leisurely stroll to the Leaky Cauldron, where they had several rounds of butterbeer. Eventually Harry and Ron went from drinking butterbeer to doing Wizarding boilermakers, following each butterbeer with a shot of Old Ogden’s. After three hours of chatting and drinking, Hermione stifled a yawn.

"Well, it’s not the weekend yet, and I’ve got some papers to catch up on before I go to bed, so I think I’ll go home now," Hermione said. As she reached behind Harry to get her cloak, it fell behind his chair and he automatically turned in his seat to pick it up.

"Let me get that for you," Harry said. "I’m leaving too." As he handed Hermione’s cloak to her, her hand accidentally brushed his cheek. At least Harry thought it was accidental, but her cheeks seemed a bit pink in the torchlight inside the Leaky Cauldron, almost as though she were embarrassed. He tried to brush aside the thoughts that started filling his mind. They were the same thoughts that had crept into his brain practically every Thursday for the past three years. But it didn’t do him any good to think those thoughts, because no matter how pink her cheeks might seem in the torchlight, he was sure Hermione would never think of him the same way he thought of her – as someone he wished could be more than his best friend.

"Walk you home?" he asked hopefully, trying to keep his voice level. She smiled, nodding, and the two of them watched as Ron disapparated back to the Burrow, then found their way back out to Charing Cross Road.

The air outside the tavern was thick with mist as a typically heavy London fog rolled in off the Thames River. Harry and Hermione walked along in companionable silence, just as they’d done so many times during the past ten years. This time, though, Harry thought he felt something different pass between them. _It’s probably just static electricity from the rain clouds gathering overhead,_ he thought as his stomach did flip-flops that made him hope it was something more.

All too soon, they reached the front stoop of Hermione’s flat. Harry walked her up to the door and waited as she rummaged through her bag for her keys. 

"Well, I guess I should go in now," she sighed, her brown eyes seeming to search his face. 

"Yeah, I guess you should. It feels like it’s going to rain really soon." 

She sighed again.

"Harry… do you really want me to go in now? I mean, right this minute?" 

Deep in her eyes Harry thought he saw something he hadn’t seen before…something that looked like what he felt toward her. 

"No. I don’t want you to go in just yet." He moved up one step until he was standing next to her. As he placed his hand gently on her shoulder, he felt several large raindrops splatter on his hair.

"Harry, it’s raining. We’re getting wet," she objected weakly.

"Are we?" he whispered. "Does that bother you?"

"Not really," she whispered back, her lips just inches from his.

"Me neither," he sighed, his lips approaching hers in slow motion as the rain began to fall more heavily.

"If you’re going to kiss me, please do it before we drown," Hermione smiled.

As raindrops kept falling on their heads, Harry lifted her chin with his finger and leaned down until his lips met hers. Hermione’s lips were soft and silky and tasted of the apple lipgloss she liked to buy at the apothecary in Diagon Alley. Harry and Hermione stood in front of her door for several long moments, their lips touching ever so lightly, as if they were both holding back for fear of going any further.

As they finally ended the kiss, Harry leaned his forehead against Hermione’s and sighed. "So."

"So."

"What do we do now?"

"I’ll go up to my flat and you’ll go home. And I’ll see you really soon." She tilted her face toward his and pecked him on the lips. 

"Promise?"

"You can take that to Gringott’s," she smiled. 

Just as they pulled apart, the rain began to come down in sheets. "Go home and dry off, Harry!" she chided as she opened the door and let herself in.

"I will," he replied, waving to her as he reached the curb. "See you soon, Hermione."

Harry pulled the hood of his cloak up over his hair and shuffled down the street, a goofy grin spreading across his face. By the time he reached the corner, he realized he’d been skipping down the street. His smile growing wider, he jumped in a puddle and started tap-dancing in a big, lazy circle. A downed tree-branch caught his eye and with a flick of his wand, Harry turned the branch into an umbrella. He knew he could have apparated home, but the joy of finally kissing Hermione made his heart want to burst. Umbrella held over his head, he tap-danced his way home, just dancing and singing in the rain.


End file.
